


Risk

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [20]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Addiction, Alternate Universe - Human, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Uncle</i> Thor,” Thor asks, making a face at Loki.  “How come you get to be daddy and I’m stuck with uncle?”</p><p>“You’re daddy’s brother,” Loki reminds him, smiling.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Missteps and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thor faces the music.

"Of me?" Sif stops talking for a long moment, chin propped on her upturned palm. "No, not that I recall. I probably wouldn't have put up with it."

He can see that; as teens, they'd both been athletes and she could – and would - have beaten the shit out of him. Thor clears his throat and tries to cover his rapidly mounting anxiety with a cough. "And Loki?"

She straightens up a little and takes both elbows off the table. "Do you want the honest answer," she asks, "or the nice one?"

That pretty much _is_ his answer, right there. Still, he started this; he should see it through. "The honest one," Thor tells her. He’s so tense he’s shaking.

She looks at her plate. So does he. The secrets of the universe don't seem to be revealed there. "Well," she starts off, "yes. I'm not a behavioral health expert, not by any means, but I think a lot of the signs are present and accounted for."

"Were present," Thor corrects, watching her play with her fork. "I haven't done anything like that in ages."

Sif looks up. "No," she says, firmly. "It's not something you just _not do_." She frowns at him. "Like Loki: He's still an addict, he's just not using. Yes, yes," she concedes as Thor starts to protest, "I know you don't like to look at it that way. And he _is_ putting a ton of work into his recovery. But he will always be an addict. All he can change in that particular arena," she tells him, "is his relative ability to maintain control."

Thor shakes his head sharply. "So you think," he says, blinking at her stupidly and fighting the urge to cover his ears, "I'm _an abuser?_ "

Sif reaches across the little table and rests a warm hand on his. "I've known you guys forever. I love you both, like family, and I want the very best for you. What kind of friend would I be if I lied?"

_An enabling one_ , Thor hears Loki's voice say inside his head. He shifts his hand to lace his fingers into hers, palm to palm. "I don't want you to lie," he says quietly. Part of him does, but more of him doesn't. Everyone has been lying for far too long.

She gives him a short, sharp nod. "Then, yes: I think you are an abuser. In your relationship with Loki, at least. Wait," she adds over his _but-._ "I know you have been working on your anger, and on your relationship, and all of that is good. Really." She squeezes his fingers gently. "But until you face the whole truth within yourself, how can you really fix it?"

He starts working from home, finally, tomorrow. Thor could file this all _for future reference_ and go blissfully, ignorantly on. Except he can't. Not anymore. He scrubs at his face with his free hand. "Fuck," he says softly. "What do I do?"

~

The concrete steps they agree on, before she grabs the check and drives him home, do make the whole business feel a little less daunting:

Do some research.  
Talk to your therapist.  
Consider following his recommendations.

Okay, not so bad. Thor can do this.

~

Doing some research actually turns out to be surprisingly hard. Awfully, gut-wrenchingly hard. Everyone is so fucking negative - _won’t admit it, can't see it, almost never any real improvement, not worth the risk to your own safety, just run away_ \- that Thor can only surf for a few minutes at a stretch before he finds he absolutely has to get up and walk around.

Finally he loses patience with himself and tries to brute force push straight through without heeding his feelings. Yeah, no, that doesn't work. In fact, what it _does_ do is make him puke, and holy hell vomiting hurts his ribs. It’s bad enough that he toys with just dying where he is, slumped against the toilet.

Loki would be devastated. Justifiably? Maybe not, but Thor’s certain his brother would be crushed regardless.

~

He gives in and calls Sif's cell phone. "Sorry," he tells her, because he feels terrible for bothering her at work, "but this is ripping me apart." His voice is scratchy. His throat hurts.

"Stay with the actual treatment programs," she suggests. She still sounds friendly and sympathetic, even though he’s one of the bad ones now. "Give me a few minutes and I'll send you some links. And Thor?”

“Mm?”

“None of this is meant to be easy. But be careful with yourself just the same, okay?” She sighs. “This isn’t about self-flagellation, or paying your debts.”

He snorts, sort of.

“I mean it,” she insists. “I don’t want you to hurt, and neither does Loki. We just want you to get better.”

He knows what she means, he thinks, but that doesn’t make it feel any closer to good.

~

_A few minutes_ turns out to be 28 exactly. Thor spends the first 19 bawling, sore ribs and abs notwithstanding, and the next six on hold. "Tomorrow is fine," he tells the receptionist once he finally gets through to a human. It isn't fine, truthfully, but he knows he isn’t up to talking - about anything - with his therapist right now. "I'm working from home, coming back from an injury, so my schedule is pretty flexible."

"I hope you feel better," she tells him at the end of the call.

"Thanks," he offers. "Me too," he says afterwards, to his blank, silent phone… to the room at large. "Me fucking too."

~

Thor tries to put a good face on it for his brother, but Loki is a _feelings detector_. “What happened,” he says, voice suspicious, before Thor really even gets a chance to greet him properly.

“I’ve been thinking too much,” Thor admits. It’s true.

Loki squats neatly, letting Mac tacklehug his knee. “What did you let Uncle Thor get himself into today,” he asks the squirming kitten.

“ _Uncle_ Thor,” Thor asks, happy for the chance to change topics. “How come you get to be daddy and I’m stuck with uncle?”

“You’re daddy’s brother,” Loki reminds him, smiling briefly before his face settles back into worried concern. “What _did_ you get yourself into today?”

Thor sighs. He leans heavily against the wall and lets the side of his head thunk against it. “I had lunch with Sif,” he says. Loki gestures _go on_ , because of course that’s not any sort of explanation. “I asked her if she thought I was abu-.” He stops; that’s not accurate, really, and he needs to stop hiding. Even the helpful, non-sensationalized links Sif’d provided stressed _facing the facts of the situation_. “I asked her if she thought I was an abuser,” he says in a rush, not giving himself space to be cowardly. “And she did. She does.”

And then he braces himself.

All Loki says, though, is “yeah, that’s tough.” He stands up slowly, easing Mac off to one side. “It gets better, though. Coming to terms with the ugly truth,” he explains when Thor doesn’t answer. “Every time you have to think about it, it gets a little easier. A little less shocking.”

“Oh.” Thor isn’t quite sure he _wants_ to reach a place where _I’m an abuser_ feels anything short of shocking.

Loki steps forward, picking his way carefully around both cats, and wraps Thor in a hug; one the wall makes sort of awkward. “I used to spend a lot of time reminding myself _this doesn’t change what is_ ,” he offers. “Labeling something makes it feel more real, but in the end life goes on the same way it always has.”

Thor chokes out a sob. His brother’s hand strokes firm and soothing along his back. “How can you be so calm about this,” he asks. It makes no sense. He hiccups. No sense whatsoever.

“Shh,” Loki soothes. He nuzzles the angle of Thor’s jaw, just below the ear. “I’ve had a lot more time to get used to it,” he explains quietly, his mouth warm against Thor’s neck. “That’s all.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor tries to cope.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Thor asks, except it ends up sounding more like pleading. “You must have known; everyone else does.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line. Thor can picture exactly what’s happening; the social worker has taken off his glasses and is tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and fingers. “You’ve been working towards understanding all along,” he tells Thor, finally. “In my opinion, you needed to reach this place on your own.”

Thor snuffles. “But didn’t keeping it from me” – he knows he sounds bratty and controlling, the way he sometimes does with his brother - “put Loki at unnecessary risk?” There really isn’t any point in trying to spread the blame but it’s something he’s done for so long he’s not sure how to even begin to stop. “Was that fair to him?” It’s grasping at straws but he keeps at it anyway.

“I think, if you consider the whole picture, you’ll realize that Loki has been as well-protected as he’s been wiling to tolerate,” the therapist counters. “When things were especially bad, for both of you, we – not because of you, exactly, but the timing was convenient - removed him from the household. And now,” he goes on, tone calm and patient, “when things are better, he’s still closely monitored five days out of every seven.”

“But that’s for _his_ shit,” Thor argues. “Not to save him from me.”

“It is, yes,” his therapist agrees. “But don’t you think, if he were to arrive at day treatment looking banged-up, they would notice immediately? And act on it?”

He knows that much is true; Loki’s told him about it happening, and he’s even seen with his own eyes how quickly and thoroughly his brother’s care team (at the previous day treatment facility, too; not just this one) follows up when needed. “I suppose,” he grumbles. He’s on edge. “It just feels dangerous.”

“Thor, I know you’re upset,” the social worker offers, “and that’s okay. But you’ve been doing really well managing your anger, and I keep in close contact with Ginny Potts.” He sighs softly. “If I hadn’t felt so comfortable with your progress, I would have handled things differently… I assure you.”

That much is probably true, too. Everyone involved has been quick to come to Loki’s aid. As he thinks quickly back through everything that’s happened, from residential treatment on, Thor has to admit that it’s really just that _he’d_ let himself stay blissfully blind to a good chunk of the _why_.

He can’t talk about that, not yet, so he shifts gears. “Loki knew,” he complains, “and so did Sif. They all knew. They all _know_.” He clears his throat. “I hate it that they think of me that way.”

“That way?”

“This way. Whatever,” Thor huffs. “They think of me as _an abuser._ A wife-beater.” Oh my, Loki would _not_ like that at all. “A _husband_ -beater,” he corrects himself. “A horrible person.”

“When you look at Loki,” the therapist asks rather than responding directly, “what do you see?”

“Huh?” Thor has no idea how he’s supposed to answer, none at all. Which is probably the point. “In what sense?”

“In any sense,” the social worker says. “Whatever comes to you.”

Hmm. “He’s beautiful,” Thor says. “He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s infuriating. He worries me.” He swallows. “He’s hot, and when he’s not busy caring about nothing but himself he’s actually very loving.” He pauses. “Like that, you mean?”

The therapist laughs quietly. “Sure, like that. It’s not a question with a right or wrong answer,” he reminds Thor.

That - in Thor’s experience - is never really true. Every question has right and wrong answers. “So, what? Are you going to read what I said like tea leaves? Ugh,” he groans, and it’s kind of an apology. “Now I even sound like him.”

“Think about what you told me,” the social worker suggests, and Thor does. “Do you notice anything?”

Thor laughs sadly. “It sounds kind of like I can’t decide if I love him or I hate him.”

“Actually, no, it doesn’t sound like that at all,” his therapist says. “But that wasn’t my point. Through your observations, you painted a pretty well-rounded picture of Loki. And you didn’t mention that he’s an addict, or mentally ill, or BPD.”

Huh. It’s true; he didn’t, and it’s not because he was making a conscious effort to avoid it. “Oh,” Thor says. He knows he should say more – something halfway intelligent, for starters - but nothing’s coming to him.

“If I asked the same question of Loki, or Sif, or anyone else who cares about you, what do you think,” the social worker asks. “Would each of them say something similar? Not the specific details,” he clarifies, “but the general tone?”

He thinks about it for close to a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah,” he finally admits, “probably.”

“That’s what I would guess as well,” his therapist agrees. “I’d be willing to bet they look at the whole of you.”

Just now the whole of him isn’t seeming all that appealing. “I’m feeling pretty bad,” Thor admits, even though no one asked. And then he starts crying.

“I know,” the therapist tells him, voice soft and sympathetic-sounding. “I’m sorry.”

~

“Are you going to leave me now,” Thor asks Loki as they’re making dinner. He’s tired and sore and miserable; working, even from home, is turning out to be more of a struggle than he’d expected. He’s only been laid up a little over a week and it feels like he’s had the plague or something. That, and the whole mess is probably compounded by his feeling like shit mentally.

“What?” Loki looks over at him quickly, eyebrows pinched together. “Where did that come from? You do owe me some litter box scooping once you’re better, sure, but it’s not the sort of thing I’d dump you over.

Thor sighs. He’s too tired to start crying again. “But I abuse you.”

His brother actually _grins_. “I’m narcissistic,” Loki counters, shrugging. “I can’t be bothered to think about you.”

Before Thor has a chance to fully process what his brother’s just said, let alone react, Loki pulls him into a fierce hug. He doesn’t fight it; his brother is warm and strong and being held is- it’s comforting. He needs it.

“Serious answer,” Loki says into Thor’s shoulder, “is this: I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to. I want to be here with you. I know it may not always seem that way,” he concedes, which isn’t what Thor is thinking at all, “because you’re not the only one in this apartment – in this relationship – with ginormous fucking issues.” He pulls Thor even closer, adjusting his grip to avoid the sore ribs. “But I do. And even when I don’t, I still do.”

~

“Promise me something,” Loki commands, forking up a big hunk of potato pancake – do potato pancakes get lumped under _breakfast for dinner_ , or are they legitimate non-breakfast food? – and tucking it deftly into Thor’s mouth. “If you ever think of hurting yourself, tell me. First. Promise?”

Thor can’t even answer, between his utter shock at the question and his overstuffed mouth. He ends up stuck somewhere between chewing and choking.

“Shh,” Loki soothes, stroking Thor’s face. “Go ahead; swallow. I’ll wait.”

“Why would I do that,” Thor protests when he can talk again. _I’m not you,_ he doesn’t say. “Hurt myself, I mean.”

His brother shrugs, still petting him gently. “Hopefully you won’t. But I want you to promise, just in case.”

Thor sighs. He takes a deep breath. “I promise to tell you if I think of hurting myself,” he parrots back, quickly and without inflection. “There.” He feels a little more like his stubborn self, suddenly. “Feel better?”

Loki smiles. “I will if you will,” he offers, then leans in to kiss Thor’s nose. “It really does get easier,” he adds. “I know patience isn’t your thing, but you’ll see.” He kisses Thor’s forehead. “If I can do it, anyone can.”

Privately Thor doubts that, but he lets it go. For now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life gets easier, life gets harder.

"You're getting pretty buff," Thor tells his brother, tracing two fingers along the lower edge of Loki's deltoid and then running them over the muscles defining his brother’s ribs and upper back. "Are you working out?" He trails back up and digs his fingers into Loki’s side, just hard enough to make his brother wriggle. "Are you?"

Loki huffs. "I have been almost since I started at this new center," he says, sounding mildly annoyed, so Thor pokes him again. "Cut it out! Honestly, Thor. It must have been back before I started at the shelter. Good to see you've lost none of your esteemed powers of observation."

Thor isn’t taking any bait today. Not the kind that leads to verbal sparring, anyway. "You look extra-good this morning," he tells his brother instead, leaning in close and nuzzling Loki's shoulder. "Is that a crime?"

"You know," Loki starts, flopping completely facedown with a loud sigh, "it probably could be.”

~

It's been twelve weeks now - not that he's counting... except he totally has been - since he fell. Thor has only just reached the point where he can (really get back in the gym himself - it's sucking, big-time; he honestly can't remember the last time he's felt this fat and weak and _soft_ , despite Loki’s regular reassurance that he's as hot as ever - and) finally lie on his side on the bed without real pain.

He's most pleased by that last part. His brother, who's been trying to spend a lazy Saturday morning reading something and who keeps getting interrupted by Thor's insistent fingers and mouth, seems rather less so.

"Fine," Loki mutters into the pillow. "Take whatever it is you want and then leave me be."

Thor _doesn't_ actually want anything like that; he's just enjoying being able to lie here together thinking about something besides how much he hurts. But Loki all flat and temporarily blind is simply too tempting to resist. Thor scoots over and flops heavily on top of his brother's cool, smooth body. "Mm," he hums into Loki's ear, settling in with nearly his entire weight. "Comfy."

"Get off me, you lug," Loki squeaks, kicking and reaching up behind himself to slap and claw. "I'm serious. Get off. I can't breathe."

That's clearly bullshit; anyone who can holler that loudly is breathing just fine. Thor kneels up and moves off his brother anyway.

It's one of many things he's trying to learn... erring on the side of caution in the face of mixed signals. So far it's been earning him faint praise and loud damnation, but his group leader warned them all to expect a cool reception. _Think of it as a game you've been playing_ , the man had suggested. _The rules are changing, and your partner - not just you! - will need time to adjust_.

It's taking quite a bit of adjusting. Thor's trying to stay calm about everything and not let Loki’s reactions bother him.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

~

_Make sure you talk about this with your partners_ , the leader had advised them a session or two later.

Most of the people in Thor's group are there under court order, which is- it’s unsettling. One man, a short, thin accountant who doesn't look like he could hurt anyone for trying, takes painstakingly-detailed notes.

_With your joint counselor or mediator present_ , the leader had gone on to clarify. _Don't try having these conversations on your own_.

~

"I have homework," Thor announces as soon as they're all seated. The whole thing is awkward and uncomfortable, but he's committed to doing this. Which means he needs to get it out before he not-so-accidentally succumbs to the urge to let either of them - Ginny, Loki – distract him or start off in any one of a thousand completely unrelated directions.

"By all means," Ginny says briskly, "Go ahead." She and his therapist, with some input from Loki's Dr. Riley, had spent considerable time helping him with the daunting task of selecting his program; he knows he has her full support.

And, in theory, Loki's… although that part's a little less cut and dried.

Thor clears his throat. It’s a real relief to find _that_ doesn't hurt much anymore either. He turns to face his brother. "Loki," he says, feeling ridiculously shy, "I'm not nearly as good at reading your body language as I probably should be." He tries to soften his message with a smile; it comes out feeling more like a grimace. From the expression on his brother's face, it evidently looks like one too. "For now, I'm going to have to rely on your help: Please ask me for what you need, especially if I seem to be missing the point somehow."

Loki flops back against the couch and rolls his eyes. "Honestly, I fail to see-."

"Loki," Ginny cuts in to remind him, "it isn't your turn. Thor, go on."

"That was all I had," Thor says, shaking his head. "I'm finished."

"Thank you, then" she tells him, smiling politely. As always, she is perfectly composed. "Nice job. Loki, do you think you can do what Thor just asked of you?"

"Yes," Loki says, looking at Ginny. He sighs. "I just don't-.” He pulls in a long breath and sighs again, even more loudly. “What if I liked him better," he goes on at last, eyes narrowed, "before? When he was abusing me, I mean. Or whatever you want to call it."

Without looking away from his brother Ginny holds up a hand to stop Thor from responding. "Well, let's think about that for a minute," she suggests. "What if Thor liked _you_ better when you were using? I'm not saying he actually did or didn't," she goes on, hand still up, "but what if he had? What if he does?"

His brother makes a face. Thor bites the inside of his mouth, hard.

"Well, too bad for him," Loki tells Ginny, almost immediately. "If he likes something that's damaging for me, he's just going to have to get over it. If he really loves me, I mean," Loki continues, starting to build up a head of steam and sounding more than a little angry. "Otherwise he can move the fuck on. No one's putting a gun to his head and keeping him here." He shoots a look at Thor; his green eyes _burn_ and Thor has to look away.

Ginny makes a note on her leather-bound pad. "Exactly."

After a long pause (during which all three of them are almost eerily silent) Loki surges to his feet, hands clenched. He opens and closes his mouth several times without actually speaking.

Thor holds his breath, trying to watch his brother out of the corner of his eye without being too obvious about it. The inside of his mouth is bleeding. In the end Loki just stalks over to the window and peers out between the half-closed slats of the vertical blinds.

Ginny hold up one finger to Thor as she makes another quick note. "Come join us again when you're ready," she tells his brother's rigid back and then turns back to him. "How do you think your program is going, Thor?"

As much as he wasn't looking forward to talking about this, it's almost a relief to have something to concentrate on that isn't the frustration (or whatever) rolling off his brother. "It's still really uncomfortable," he admits, because it totally is. "But the leader and the other coaches all seem really good, and I'm getting some useful guidance." He laughs, rueful. In his peripheral vision he sees Loki flinch. "It's ironic. I used to put people in programs like this," he says sadly. "And now here I am, right there with them.”

Loki snorts. "Welcome to the march of the damned, brother."

~

Even though Loki had eventually come back to the couch – and sat back down, without further incident - Thor can't help but expect the worst once they make their way back to the car. The minutes tick by; his brother is very quiet, unusually so, but the storm never does hit. For that Thor is incredibly grateful.

"What would you like for dinner," he asks, a bit tentatively, once they're about halfway home. He’s more tense than he realizes… enough so that he has to fight not to jump when Loki puts a hand on his thigh.

"I'm torn between Italian and dive Mexican," his brother says. He doesn't sound angry anymore; just tired. Well, then, they both are. "Something nice and messy."

Thor is about to make the decision for them when he realizes that's not what Loki asked for. "Do you want me to choose," he offers instead. Just like they'd role-played in group yesterday. It's easier with his brother than it was with a roomful of angry near-strangers.

"Sure," Loki says, pleasantly enough. "Go ahead."

Thor lets out a silent little huff of relief. "Mexican it is, then."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki finally get something straight, kind of.
> 
>  
> 
> _I meant to pr0n but angsted instead. Sorry!_

“ _How_ many times do we have to _have_ this conversation,” Loki snarls. He’s not making any attempt to keep his voice down, and Thor is – not for the first time, either - glad Sif and Steve are out for the evening. “Jesus, Thor. How fucking many?!”

Thor sighs. He’s working really hard at not losing his temper, no matter what his brother says or does. Keeping himself under control isn’t exactly easy. “At least once more, apparently,” he tells Loki as calmly as he can. “Because, regardless of how frustrated you are, it seems we still aren’t understanding one another.”

Loki pushes hard away from the balcony railing and practically slams himself down into a chaise. He crash-lands so hard it makes Thor, who hasn’t yet put nearly distance enough between himself and _broken ribs_ to be able to throw his own body around with such careless disregard, cringe. “Fine. _Fine_ ,” Loki huffs. “What exactly am I not explaining?”

“You told Dr. Potts- Ginny,” Thor corrects himself, because he does realize his using her title seems to bug Loki… even if he doesn’t know why, exactly – “earlier that you liked me better when I was abusing you. Is that really true?” He lowers himself warily onto the other chaise, shifting a little so he can still see his brother. “Did you mean it like that? Like it sounds?”

“In a way,” Loki says. He looks away, out into the night. “Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

But it _is_ troubling, deeply so. Something in his brother’s wording grates on him, too, and Thor slips up: “Don’t you tell me what to think,” he snaps, sharp and nasty.

Shit.

Thor pulls in a couple of deep breaths, slowly and a little shakily, as he makes himself count to ten and then keeps on going. “I’m sorry,” he says, when he gets to 20. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” He takes another deep, slow breath. _21, 22, 23, 24, 25._ “Please help me understand,” he asks his brother, “what you mean.”

“ _As I’ve told you countless times_ ,” Loki complains, still looking away, “I don’t like _nice_. I don’t like _safe_. I don’t like _boring_. I only like edgy and dangerous and _not good for me_.” He stops for a second to catch his own breath, and Thor can see his chest rising and falling sharply in the glow of the streetlight. “I don’t want a life where everything is soft and easy and where you’re constantly asking me ‘what do you want, Loki’” – his tone makes the hair on the back of Thor’s neck stand up – “and I’m stuck having to tell you. Only to have you say ‘oh, no, brother, I can’t do that. It’s too _naughty_ ’. If that’s how things have to be, I don’t want- I don’t want to be part of it.”

It hits like a punch in the stomach, sudden and sickening. Thor can feel his own heart racing; can feel the panic bubbling up in his chest. He forces himself to act calm, though, and does all he to sound as normal as possible. Given that they’re arguing, that is. Because he thinks they’re arguing. He hopes it’s only that. “Do you wish you were still out on the street, Loki,” he asks, softly. He should have asked this a long time ago. “Do you miss it? Do you wish I’d just left you alone?”

At that Loki jerks around to stare open-mouthed at Thor. His eyes are big and wet. He looks- afraid, really; nothing at all like the hard, callous way he’s been talking. “Are you saying you’re going to- because- I ca-…,” he stammers. “If you do- I- _fuck_ , Thor.”

“What? No!” Thor’s thoroughly lost now, as if he’d fallen asleep in the midst of one discussion and then awakened in a completely different one somehow, but he does feel pretty confident he wasn’t- he _isn’t_ on the verge of _doing_ anything. “I’m just asking, because sometimes it seems like you don’t want- this life. Our life. However you want to put it.” He wants to reach out and pull Loki close, to rub his brother’s back and say comforting, soothing things.

He can’t, though; he shouldn’t. Not if it isn’t welcome.

Loki slumps back against his chaise, much less violently this time; defeat, then, and not anger. Thor can see his throat working as he swallows, over and over. There are shining rivulets of tears running down his face, down his neck. “I can’t go back to that,” Loki says, and then sucks in another breath. It’s wet-sounding, this time, almost as if he’s somehow drowning. “I would die.”

The question Loki’s answered is not really the one Thor’d asked. They’re having two parallel conversations. They’re both lost, then. “That isn’t what I meant,” he assures his brother, fighting desperately not to cry too. “It just- sometimes it sounds like you hate it here. Like you don’t want to be with me and are only putting up with it because- because I made you. Because I make you.”

~

In the long silence that follows, Thor feels like he can’t breathe. His heart pounds so loudly in his ears that it ought to be plainly audible outside his head. Counting to calm himself doesn’t work this time; he can’t remember the numbers. Loki is going to ask to leave and-… he can’t. Life can’t go on if-.

Thor can’t even let himself _think_ it.

~

“I don’t want to go back,” Loki says at last. His voice is still wet and rough, but it’s also startlingly- well, it’s _small_. “And I’m not sorry you got me out. Or that I’m here with you now.” Thor sits very still, waiting for the ever-present _but_. “I… I’m just afraid I’m going to disappear, you know?” He snuffs, wiping his nose on his shirt. “I don’t want to turn into _Tame Loki_.”

_Oh god._

_That_ hadn’t even been on Thor’s radar. He has to think it all through – to play it back, word for word - several times before he can even respond. “I don’t think you could ever be _tame_ ,” he tells his brother eventually, feeling like there really isn’t any good or safe answer. He’s not skilled at navigating this sort of thing, especially when it comes at him out of nowhere; he’d genuinely thought this particular problem was _all him_.

“You- your getting healthy- it hasn’t changed who you _are_ ,” he promises Loki. It hasn’t. The very same _Loki_ Thor has always known is still right here beside him. He can feel hot tears trailing down his own face. “Me- me not hitting you and not choking you and- and-.” He stops for a moment and clears his throat loudly. “That hasn’t changed who you are either.” Thor takes a huge gulping breath. “We’re still just us, Loki. Really.”

And then he holds out his arms in a silent plea.

It does hurt a little, even after all these weeks, when his brother scrambles into them and crushes Thor deep into the chaise cushions.

That’s okay. He has his brother in his arms, and no one is going anywhere. Which is more than okay, even.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is strange.
> 
>  
> 
> _Sorry for the sloppy editing... I got a really late start on this one. Work is hell._

"Do you have _any_ idea how fucking hot you are?"

Loki glances up for a moment, briefly tearing his attention away from Thor's hand. His eyes are dark; his face is flushed and dripping wet. "Oh, probably," he agrees around a mouthful of Thor's thumb. "But don't let that stop you from telling me anyway." He looks back down, then, and closes his eyes with a muffled groan. His thick, black lashes form two perfect fans across his pink cheeks, and Thor wants very much to kiss them forever.

Instead he pulls his thumb gently free of Loki's mouth, stretching forward to kiss his brother properly. For once, he makes sure it’s a kiss that starts out as calm and soft as he can make it.

That lasts all of four seconds.

Loki's mouth is hot and wide open, and Thor quickly finds he can't resist plunging his own tongue roughly in. He slides one hand up the slick length of his brother's muscled back and the other from Loki's sharp jaw around behind and into the dripping tangle of his brother's hair.

Thor does his best – which isn’t all that good, actually; not this time - to wait until Loki relaxes into his hands before pulling his brother all the way in and really crushing their mouths together. His teeth scrape hard over Loki's lip; Thor pauses. It must have hurt, and he doesn't want to force his way where he's not welcome.

Loki has one hand on Thor's chest and the other arm slung around behind, in the narrow gap between Thor's shoulders and the cold tile. He gasps - a short, harsh sound through his nose - at the inadvertent near bite. Rather than pushing away, though, Loki flexes his arm instead and yanks himself even closer. His tongue is firm and insistent; his cock slaps wetly against Thor's stomach as the two of them move.

It doesn't feel like there's much to misinterpret there, honestly. He gives in and lets himself stop thinking.

The warm, warm water pouring from the showerhead sluices down Loki's back. It splashes Thor in the face, over and over, as the two of them shift and writhe against each other.

All told, it's hard to breathe through his nose and downright impossible to breathe through _Loki_. Thor takes a big shot of water square in the face and has to twist away, coughing. "Sorry," he rasps between big, sucking breaths. "I feel like I need a snorkel."

His brother laughs, not unkindly; there doesn’t seem to be any hint of malice in it.

Thor coughs again, twice, and clears his throat. "So," he guts out, hoarse now for several reasons. "If I remember correctly, we were talking about how hot you are." He lets his thumb drag slowly along Loki's jaw, from ear to chin and back again. The scars are invisible now, at least in the water-soaked, steamy dimness of the shower, but he can still feel them under his brother’s skin. They’re tiny braille signposts, paying silent homage to his own shortcomings. His own (impressive multitude of) sins. He shivers.

"What," Loki asks softly. "Baby? Wherever you just went- let’s just say it doesn't look like it's off to bask in the full force of my awesome hotness." Thor shifts a little to look at his brother’s face: flushed cheeks, puffy red lips, big dark eyes, and in the middle of it all the smallest of worried frowns.

It's out of place here, now. He stretches away from the wall, just enough to kiss it away. "Sorry," he says again. This is not what they're here to do. They can talk later. "My mind wandered. It won't happen again," he assures his brother when Loki pouts.

He reaches up and smoothes his thumb – the one with which he’d traced those telltale scars - over Loki's lip, carefully avoiding the purpling, swollen place where the two of them had just collided. Loki's tongue darts out and licks his hand from palm to fingertip. "Are you up for more," Thor asks his brother, instead of _did I hurt you?_

"Mm," Loki hums, watching his face closely as he nips Thor's hand. "I am. And so, it seems," - he rocks his hips a little, just enough to slide his hard cock up and down against Thor's own erection - "are you." He grins at his own joke and nips again; he bites down quite a bit harder this time, and Thor has to fight not to rip free. "Go on. Prove to me just how hot you think I am."

~

The logistics are a bit awkward; it’s no small tub, sure, but Thor’s a big guy and his brother’s not exactly a dainty little wood sprite either.

~

A few minutes earlier, before things had gotten too crazy, Loki had broken off kissing and pushed Thor away. _Hang on a second_ , he’d admonished, wiggling and pretend-slapping as Thor’d tried hard to pull him close again, _or you’re going to get water all over the fucking bathroom_. And then he’d shoved one arm up under the shower curtain and groped around. _There you are, my precious_ , he’d joked after a bit of grunting and stretching, grinning broadly as he’d brandished a small bottle of pale-colored oil. 

_I hate lube in the bathtub_ he’d offered, still grinning, and Thor hadn’t been able to help feeling like that was the sort of thing a good partner really should have known already. _It washes right off,_ Loki’d elaborated when Thor had squinted at him stupidly, caught somewhere between puzzled and embarrassed. _If I wanted to just use nothing at all, I would. But I don’t. Not today. Hand, please_.

Thor’d dutifully put his hand out, only to have his brother drench it in oil.

 _I think you know what to do from here_ , Loki had said then. He’d capped the oil with a loud snap and kneeled up to set it on the tub edge behind Thor’s shoulder. _Don’t just lie there_ he’d teased, leaning down to kiss Thor’s forehead sweetly. _Get to it._

~

Thor did, and didn’t, and had.

~

Now his wrist hurts quite a bit, from reaching around Loki’s hip, but it’s getting easier and easier to ignore with every hot, oiled glide of his brother’s tight body up and back down his cock.

“Just like that.” Loki has both hands braced on the wall above Thor’s shoulders; as the two of them rock together, his palms squeak and stutter on the tile. “Right there. Mm.” He ducks his head down for another kiss and moans into Thor’s mouth. “Oh fuck, yes… _right_ there.”

Instructions like these, Thor can follow.

~

They struggle to their feet afterwards, stiff and sore. Thor’s going to have bruises all along his spine, and probably across the back of his hips as well; Loki’s knees are already red-purple. The two of them both sport scratches and bite marks; Loki has a spectacular double-handful of reddened fingerprints just above his sharply-sculpted hipbones.

“Ugh,” Thor grumbles, rolling his own aching neck. “I think I’m too old for this shit.”

Loki laughs. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

~

At least it all makes for an easy cleanup.

~

“Can we talk about something,” Thor asks his brother later on, once they’re lying warm and mostly dry in bed.

Loki shifts up on one elbow and looks at him, blinking sleepily. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

It probably can, but Thor doesn’t want it to. He reaches out slowly and carefully traces, once again, along his brother’s jaw. “I know I’ve said it before, but I want you to know I- I’m so sorry about this.” _I never meant to hurt you_ sounds pretty stupid under the circumstances, so he doesn’t say it. “If there was any way I could undo it, I promise you, I would. And don’t say it’s okay,” he adds quickly, silencing Loki with two fingers across the lips. “Because it isn’t.”

His brother takes him by the wrist and – gently, yes, but firmly – moves his hand aside.

“Thank you,” Loki whispers. He leans forward and kisses Thor. It isn’t wild, like earlier, but it’s full of feeling and Thor badly wants to cry. “Apology accepted.” Loki backs off a little, yawning. “Excuse me. We can talk about it more another time, if you want,” he concedes, “but right now I’m _dying_.” He kisses Thor again, warm and wet and full of promise. “Bed. Sleep.”

Thor nods. His heart hurts. “Sure.”

But long after his brother drifts off, warm and sleek in his arms, he stares – wide awake – out the glass door to the balcony… out into the darkness beyond.


End file.
